Such vivid memories
1. This one time I got bored of the Just Fucking White colour of my bedroom walls, so I fed my girlfriend nothing but beetroot for a week then bounced her on my knees (recent winners of the Brighton Knobbly Knee Gold Medal), sending intense waves of G-spot stimulation through her until she started doing a liquid sex guff. Quick as a flash I steered her around the room, using her flailing arms to aim her like a Twatling Gun, until all four points of the compass were a warm and modern Summer Fuschia.

2. The first time I went to a gay sauna I met a bloke who apologised in advance for having a very thin dick, “almost like a needle”, so I told him it was probably just as well as I’d never done this before. He then fished out some sort of little rotating sex toy and used it to distend my nether regions, before mounting me and gyrating his hips in a circular motion while humming. It was at this point that I realised his dick WAS a needle and that he was using me to play ‘Dambusters’ on the miniature arse gramophone.

3. Once, in a club, I met this Scottish girl who looked a bit like how my sister would probably look if I had a sister, so I inveigled my way into her student flat thanks to lager tops and the following morning bought two cinnamon whirls from the local bakery, clapping them over her ears as I did her doggy-style and getting her to call me “Luke”. My name’s not Luke.
(.Yeti.Get that down yer neck., Thu 23 Aug 2012, 15:46,
16 replies)

we met in a Boots
I asked her if this cream would help my genital warts. she said she'd ask her teacher the next day. She was my ideal woman, hair like ripe avocados, and an anus that could hold a beach umberella in a gale. I knew that a woman like that would have to be romanced, so I asked her if she'd like to have my fuck missile explode in her ham silo. She said she wasn't into star wars, but she'd give me a titwank for an oyster card.As soon as we got in the door she had her hand down my pants. I had to walk back and force her to drop my wallet. She asked me if I had ever made love to the Bolero, I said I preferred Dale's Supermarket Sweep. She was like a gymnast in bed. Fourteen. We started with a rusty trombone, then a cleveland steamer, and finally a kidderminster shagpiledriver that dislocated my wrist. She asked me to treat her mean so I told her she had the dress sense of a bosnian refugee. I gave her multiple organisms and she made me sleep in the wet spot. She touched me in places no woman had touched me before, like my duodenum. Sometimes, in some situations, I'm instantly transported back to that night and I can't help but touch myself, such as when I see a woman choking on mayonaisse
(cumquat mayNow with 20% more cum, Fri 24 Aug 2012, 3:23,
Reply)

It was long ago, it seems now...
I met a woman with rather large breasts and short reddish hair and was immediately smitten, but was unsure of whether or not the feeling could ever be mutual. I'm not a large man by any estimation, sometimes described as weedy with glasses and a receding hairline. I could but hope.

As we spent time together I could see that she was becoming more interested in me. Maybe it was my witty commentary on the people around us? I couldn't say. But as I prefer bigger women, I was in heaven as she laughed.

One thing led to another and we ended up back at her place, as I didn't feel right taking her back to my mum's house. I tried being on top, but the angle was wrong. "It's not your fault," she assured me. "You know, I've never had an orgasm with another person."

"Well then, maybe you should be on top?" I suggested.

She climbed on, straddling my hips, and took me into her growler. That seemed to do the trick, as her hips started bucking wildly and I could feel my nadgers just about drowning. She moaned and heaved, the flesh of her belly making squelching sounds as she gushed over me.

She leaned forward to grind her clit against me, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Her belly was pressing the air out of me. She collapsed on top of me, still grinding away and making sounds like Beth Ditto at a seafood buffet, and I felt the blood rushing to my head as I tried to gasp for air. Just as I was about to pass out I came, the most powerful orgasm I'd ever had. It was like being hit by lightning and knocked me unconscious.

I woke to her sitting up on me, shaking me. "Are you all right? Say something!"

I gasped for breath, feeling the blood drain back from my face as the pounding in my head decreased. "Yes," I wheezed. "I'm fine. My god... now I know why people choke themselves when having a wank. That was incredible!"

"So I didn't hurt you?"

"No, not at all. Just give me some time to catch my breath, and then let's do it again!"

She lay down next to me, odiferous and oleagenous, and cuddled up close. I caressed her curves, everything that I touched feeling like tits as I searched among her bulges for the real thing.

I don't approve of this QOTW.
I think it's destined to caused bitterness and recrimination.

But as you asked, I don't know why the Isralis don't just give it up and let them stay.
(scarpeWe Stole Bikes, Thu 23 Aug 2012, 14:51,
6 replies)

She poured herself a cup of tea
from a tartan Thermos flask like my grandparents took to Felixtowe, there to sit in the car and watch the waves.

I'd say she was 10 years my senior, I never asked, but she looked flawless and polished and poised against my casual teen scruff attire.

We were in a small train station somewhere west of Banbury and east of Hereford. The weather was pleasant, late July if I recall correctly, warm enough but before the humidity and persistent angry wasps of August.I watched the tendrils of steam curling upwards and vanishing just below the tip of a perfect nose, her dark hair falling into loops of ebony sheen.And there we sat; awaiting the delayed connection, just the two of us on an acre of platform. Striking up a conversation should be easy in these circumstances; two lonely travelers and the romance of a sunny station bench.She smiled at me and with a simple flash of teeth over shiny lips swept away the casual sounding words I had assembled to break the ice. I muttered something about delays and the weather, the mainstay of the lost-for-words Brit.She agreed and folding her magazine swiveled her body towards me. Ah, an invitation to continue, no rebuff. She was on her way to a business meeting and was already so late had been forced to reschedule it for the following day; I, on the way to a work related college course. An hour passed, slipped by unnoticed, and perhaps another. She was twirling her hair and my thoughts with one delicate finger. I noted that the nail polish was chipped and that she'd chewed the tip of the nail a little. This only seemed to make her more attractive to me. We seemed to find much in common, the laughter coming easily. I began to relax in her presence.And then she touched me. Just like that, just on the knee but it was the sensation of an electric fence shock. I must have jumped involuntarily because she laughed and told me she didn't bite. Attempting to appear cool and collected I replied that "I was rather hoping you would"Suddenly she stood up and holding out her hand for mine said, "let's go for a walk". My mind went into immediate shock, what the hell was about to happen here?I don't think it would be exaggeration to state that I was having trouble breathing and was developing a boner which was going to make walking a bit of a challenge. I stood awkwardly and tried to shuffle my hips to surreptitiously push my cock into a more comfortable position without blatantly shoving my hand down the front of my jeans and adjusting the tackle. Like a bumbling schoolboy I began to walk with her through the station gate and towards the woods behind the carpark.I wondered briefly if she was leading me into a trap of some kind, so surreal was this scene, but I allowed my self to be led into the shady trees.

Now I'd love to be able to tell of how I pumped her senseless against the gnarly bark of an old oak, the sun streaming through the leaves into her beautiful face as she gasped in ecstasy. The truth is that faced with the overwhelming excitement and view of her pale white thighs as she pulled her knickers to one side, thrusting a hand between us to play with herself, and with my face buried in her Chanel scented cleavage I lasted about a minute, possibly less and certainly not as much as two minutes.As we walked back to the station, each with our respective disappointment, I reflected on how this was going to replay in my head in the days to come. I felt that perhaps a second go would have created a better ending but it didn't happen. We sat, held hands, made small talk and rather awkwardly parted as her train finally arrived.

In hindsight I realise that whatever we had found to talk about before was now redundant, the deed was done and there was really nothing left to say.

It was several years before I was able to catch a whiff of Chanel and not be instantly transported back to the moment, those scent receptors can be a powerful trigger. Even seeing steam rising from a cup towards a female mouth got a little stir going. It was crap sex but the best kind of wank bank material because it was so fucking evocative and erotic and could be replayed in dirty detail whenever a few minutes were available for a quick shuffle.

So there we go, another sex lie on t'internet or an unfeasible but real encounter - you can decide for yourselves.
(Infidel, shit and wrong, Sun 26 Aug 2012, 20:20,
3 replies)

2 seconds too late.
18 years old, I have secure employment. I move out of home (untenable situation) and rent an entire house to myself. It soaks up all my weekly wages in rent, so I attempt to sublet a few rooms, so I may have enough money to eat.

Despite many ads in the local rag, “Greasy John” is the only person to apply for a room, so I let him in, out of pure financial neccesity.

I knew the previous tenants quite well, a bunch of private school boys, first in my home town to try smack and cocaine, first to distribute acid trips, first to inject beer (wtf!!). Lots of money, lots of really pretty posh druggy girly friends. Knocked about with them for a bit, but became disturbed by their care-free, money-free druggy habits and casual attitude to the law. Carefully drifted away from their scene, but was keen to take over their lease in a great house. Scored the house, and a few latent visitors….

First night in my new “home”, had the fire blazing in my bedroom fireplace, ordered a pizza, delivered to my new address (so exciting and new). Very self-satisifed, settled into bed in a warm room, tum full of pizza and a few beers…..and why not? Let’s have a good satisfying wank in my new home, and off to sleep…deeply satisfied with my new found independence.

So, a few strokes later, there is a healthy streak of ropey cock vomit blurted across my chest, I reach for the “love sock” to mop it up, when there is a loud “knock knock” at the front door. I freeze, 2 seconds too late.

Fuck.

As I frantically reach for the love sock to mop up my goodtime, good old “Greasy John” has answered the door, and ushered in a couple of posh tarts, who used to score off the previous tenants (Penelope and Madeline, no less, now respected lawyers), and within seconds I have reefed the sheets up to my chin as two plummy hot girls are perched on the end of my sad little single bed, imploring me to come out and party (paaartay).

Brief tops, short skirts, expensive perfume, after a bit of rough trade to play with for the night. Simply fucking brilliant timing. Not.

I am totally naked, the sheets are slowly sticking to my chest as the semen dries and does what is does best – resemble cold unpleasant glue. My once magnificent cock slowly wilts away, job finished, oozing a few last defiant drips of cum onto my pubes, as we chat.

They flirt for a while, wondering why I don’t lower the sheets and let them have a good look at the goods, or at least get out of bed, get dressed in front of them and come out to party (paaartay).

For fuck’s sake, the room reeks of semen – is it totally foreign to these two? Jesus, it’s cold, sticky and I just want to clean it up.

I remain steadfast in my frigid state, holding the sheets up to my chin, lest they detect the absolute mess of splurry that lies beneath. That would look great, yeah, fling aside the sheets, leap out of bed, spraying cum everywhere like some demented masturbating baboon. I don’t think so.

"No! Come on, we’re up for a GOOD NIGHT, geddit? Come on, at least drop the sheets and let us see you.”

“No, really, um…errr…listen, you are both really hot, but umm…I gotta go to work tomorrow to my minimum wage job (like that ever fucking mattered, when faced with a night of being physical entertainment for two utterly divine plummy chicks).

“Ok, Fuck it, your loss, we’re going, ta ta.”

And with that, they disappeared into the night.

Jesus. Shit. Fuck. Bastard.

Two really posh types, sitting on the end of my bed, not very subtle about their bestial needs, slipped away, into the night for the sake of one mis-timed wank.

Kitten CAM
I will give most things a go and so a couple of years back I thought that I would try out "CAM 2 CAM", as is often advertised when accessing pron on the internet. Credits obtained, I found myself watching some young Eastern European lady on her sofa, legs splayed at a quarter to three. As with live comedy, I rarely remember the detail of pron in the morning. So the reason I recall this scene with such clarity is not because the girl was frigging herself silly with a dildo but because she had a little kitten with her... and it wanted to join in.This was clearly all a game to the little black furball who had climbed into the sofa. The in, out cycle bringing the toy almost within reach of the kitten and every time it came close, it flapped at the dildo in the "No Hands" style.As a sexy experience, it was a write off but as a comedic moment, I thought it was epic!

Inception...
...would have been a much better film if they were trying to heist their way through many layers of dreams within dreams into the guy's wank bank.
(casinowilhelm, Sat 25 Aug 2012, 18:23,
3 replies)

No-one will believe this, but have it anyway
Once there was a girl, 19 years old, and a confirmed lesbian since early, fumbling disappointments with spotty teenage boys. However, she had had a massive row and break up with her long-term girlfriend, and had gone out on the town with her (straight) best friends. I don't know if it was encouragement from the mates, a desire for revenge on the GF, personal doubts or a kind of inverted bi-curiousity, but for whatever reason, she felt like seeing "how the other half live", and cross the great divide.

I worked all this out later. All I know is that while dancing - well, throwing myself around in sweaty, drug-addled spastic twitches, anyway - I found myself in the company of a friendly, chatty couple and their quieter but devastatingy cute, doe-eyed friend.

Even more remarkable, for the first and only time in my life, I seemed to be able to communicate purely by dancing. We were moving as one, synergising in a way I find hard to understand even now, and even allowing for the empathy-enhancing chemicals. To my delight, after the club chucked out and we actually began to chat on the stroll along the sea-front back to their shared house, we continued to spark off each other, to connect and communicate effortlessly.

I didn't actually make it home for several more days; days (and nights) that will keep me warm in the lonely moments for the rest of my life. The fact that this gorgeous, teenage goddess, at the perfect age when gravity is merely a word between "gravel" and "gravy", would even talk to a 35-year-old geek like me, let alone shag me senseless for days on end, was and still is a revelation.

OK, so it didn't last beyond that time, and when I bumped into her about a year later she told me she'd gone back to her ex girlfriend. But, as the films say, they can't take that memory away from me. Nor the moment when, collapsing in a sweaty, panting glow, she said to me "Blimey, I didn't know men knew how to do that..."

Ok, let the doubters begin. Personally I think the nature of this QOTW is that people will naturally select those moments when, unbelievably, everything went right, just for a change, and it will naturally sound like wishful thinking and fantasy. Isn't that the point?
(moon monkeyis busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 24 Aug 2012, 13:58,
20 replies)

"Don't Look!"
Lying in a hammock one summer's afternoon with my then girlfriend, her extremely attractive younger sister was goofing around and fell into the pool in her clothes. Much laughter was had. And naturally, a wet T-shirt was too. I shall treasure this moment, I thought to myself, hoping my analytical leer was not too obvious.

"Oh no," cried the mother, coming to the door and handing her a towel, "you're not dripping all over the carpet! Put this on."

This being a rather unihibited household of three sisters and divorced mother, it occurred to me that I might finally glimpse some of the domestic nudism my girlfriend had told me about when we'd discussed modesty in our respective homes. The domestic nudism that had gripped my mind for months. Ohyesohyesohyesohyesohyesohyes...

"Ladyfingers, close your eyes!" shouted the sister and my girlfriend in near unison.

On the train!
When I was at college I spent a lot of time on the train.

It was a shit journey which saw me listening to my Walkman (remember those?) or hurriedly completing coursework on the day it was due.

The climate meant most females showed as much flesh as linda mcartney's fridge.

One day a young lady sat down in front of me. Slight of build and flame of hair she looked like Shirley Manson's younger hotter sister (I know the attractiveness of a ginger like Manson will polarise opinions.)

Given the lack of any "stimulus" apart from her face I didn't really pay much attention.

Then I smelled an unmistakeable aroma.

I looked up and sure enough! The dirty bitch had cracked open a packet of monster munch.

I had hit the bottle a bit hard the night before and was feeling a bit ropey. The stench of chemical sprayed starch snacks with a helping of acidy vinegar nearly made me lose it all over her. No double entendre intended. I nearly yahrged.

So, I didn't really appreciate her presence at this point but luckily she soon polished them off and crumpled the packet.

Then it happened.

One. By. One. She slowly and delicately sucked and licked her fingers clean. A bit of eye contact thrown in and I went from dodgy guts to raging, angry erection in about 3 seconds.

Then she brought out a chunky kit kat and didn't so much eat it as much as she felated the ever loving shit out of it.

The Bank of Onan was treated to a considerable deposit that day.

Not quite the "and then i took a wrong turn and ended up on the set of Shaving Private Ryan" type stories expected this week.
(OTT, Thu 23 Aug 2012, 21:56,
2 replies)

An old friend of mine was having a wank
and he accidentally came over his cat. He's dead now, so...y'know. Bit of a warning there.
(Two Hatswhen you were partying I studied The Blade, Thu 23 Aug 2012, 15:02,
14 replies)

Slightly off-topic here but lots of people, of course, have odd but elaborate devices and methods that they use for masturbation.
Imagine my shock when I discovered that my particular method, which involved putting my penis into a sleeping volunteer got me into ALL SORTS of trouble.
(DefinitelyNOTAmorousBadgerOhNo, Thu 23 Aug 2012, 16:26,
5 replies)

So close...
The flat we shared was large, but sparsely furnished. A fold-out futon sofa served our needs for the living room, and one evening we ended up folding it out so that we could both lay down on it. I took the back position, with her in front; I was taller so we could both see the TV.

I barely breathed. My whole reason for moving to Manchester, leaving everything behind me, was so that I could spend time with her. My love was apparently unrequited, and I'd seen her go through some pretty appalling relationships. And now... now I was spooning her in our flat, with my most vivid fantasies dancing in front of my eyes like Christmas baubles.

I couldn't help it. It had a mind of its own. Nestled snugly between her buttocks, my penis rose, engorged and ready for what it was designed to do. The slightest movement caused my already sensitive glans to rub against the front of my pyjamas, sending sparks of pleasure down my root and right through my loins. I was so hard that it began to ache. She moved slightly to accommodate me more fully.

My breathing had almost stopped. I was acutely aware of myself and my proximity to her, and trying to keep as still as possible lest everything should fade away like in so many of my dreams. She stretched at last, swung off the sofa leaving my erection pointing at her like a finger of accusation.

I apologised. She knew of my feelings, and had suggested the folding out of the sofa. She brushed it off, and said that she was going to go to bed. Would I like to come with her?

My penis jolted like it had been wired up to the mains. Even then, I couldn't believe that she was actually leading me on. She must just like the companionship, the pleasure and warmth of spending time in close proximity with another person. We went through to the bedroom.

The next half an hour were exquisite torture. We stroked each other, me in my pyjama bottoms, her in her bra and panties, never daring to go near to the major, obvious erogenous zones. Stomach, arms, cheeks... all were fair game though as we ignored the steamy, horny elephant in the room. Until I moved my hand to between her legs and traced the outline of her vulva through the lace of her pants.

Within milliseconds we were kissing with all the pent up passion that had been held in coming to boiling point. My pyjama bottoms were pulled down, and she started to tug away at my straining cock while I groaned and tried not to cum.

"Have you... got anything?" she asked. I didn't. The only thing I had was a comedy johnny bought from a pub toilet machine that looked like an alien and felt like a rubber balloon. 'Not for prophylactic use', it said in clear letters on the box. Fuck.

Now, in my mind, I said 'no, but it doesn't matter - we don't have to screw. There's plenty of other things we can do, and first of all I want to make you cum with my tongue.' What I actually did was mutter that I didn't, and instantly go limp in her hand. The moment was completely ruined, and I said I was going to go to my own bed and see her in the morning. About a month later, I moved back to my home town, having never discussed what had happened with her.

It remains one of the most intensely erotic experiences of my life, though. I think if I did have a packet of three, and we had gone all the way, it wouldn't have been burnt into my mind so vividly even now, ten years after it happened. I've had some cracking wanks on the strength of it. I wonder if she ever thinks about it and gets sweaty-handed herself?
(CaptainCrackerjacklive trout, slow motion, Tue 28 Aug 2012, 13:29,
18 replies)

Nearly
My wank bank deposits are not memories of actual sexy time, but fantasies about what could have happened.

Just after I started working I was sent on a management training course. One of the first exercises was to pair off and walk towards each other until you felt uncomfortable. Being England, for most people this was about 2m apart. I was paired with a young woman called Katrine and, never having met before, staring into each other's eyes, we walked towards each other until we ended up giggling in each other's arms.

It wasn't love at first sight, but attraction. We were both just out of university, she was not beautiful but certainly attractive with a very low cut blouse and a plump cleavage. That evening at dinner we sat together, talking and flirting all night. We continued in the bar, lots of hand on thigh and other touching. At some point she looked at her watch, then at me, and said, "Well, are you coming to my room or shall I come to yours?"

After a long pause I said, "I'm engaged, we're getting married in 6 months." "Me too", she replied, eyes twinkling, hand on my knee. "I can't", I said, a lump in my throat, and in my pants. She stared at me for a long time, smiling. "You're too good for her", she said, then leaned forward so her boobs pressed up against my chest, and kissed me wetly on the lips, our mouths staying stuck together for what seemed like ages. Her hand cupped my cock through my trousers, giving it a non-so-gentle squeeze, then she winked at me, and walked out of the bar.

I thought about finding which room she was staying in and knocking on the door. But I didn't. Instead I went by my self to my room and wanked myself silly. The course finished the next day, we exchanged pleasantries and she kissed me on the cheek, her lovely breasts pressing against my arm. Never saw her again, except in my dreams.
(Smaleis stuffed, Sat 25 Aug 2012, 21:35,
6 replies)

Ok, you ASKED for this.
SHEDULUS glanced across at GARAGETRON, it had been a long battle and no clear victor had emerged. Beads of sweat stood out on GARAGETRON's moustache, SHEDULUS found himself aroused despite everything, even his love for his fiance GAZEBOBOT forgotten in the gravitic pull of his sudden lust for GARAGETRON.GARAGETRON noticed SHEDULUS' growing extension and found his pumps rising in response. "SHEDULUS" he growled. "I'm going to pump you so hard you'll come off your foundations.""Do me GARAGETRON" replied SHEDULUS. "Make me your conservatory, Do me til my creosote peels."Rounding the corner GAZEBOBOT gasped in shock at the sight before her. Quickly she drew back, her windows scarred forever by the view that she could NEVER unsee.GARAGETRON had spotted GAZEBOBOT out of the corner of his sensor, the knowledge that she was watching only aroused him more.to be continued.All characters tm&c mark morrisons prison shoes
(stuj(^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Fri 24 Aug 2012, 11:48,
3 replies)

Getting sucked off by the young receptionist at my desk after work hours..
..as I was playing Multi player Quake against 6 of my colleagues who were in different parts of the building.

My g/f's before this never swallowed so I gave this fiesty lass a friendly warning that maybe she should stop before it got messy. She seemed to redouble her efforts and took the lot.

Still aced the Deathmatch game too.Edit: I know from all the posts you don't believe me but back then I was really really good at Quake
(Airman GabberLiving life like a 70's BBC presenter, Thu 23 Aug 2012, 15:09,
16 replies)

As a child, I was masturbating in the woods
when I saw a dead clown.

It was a good thing actually, because up to then I had some pretty strange fetishes.
(apeloveragecommitted the vile act of onanism on, Wed 29 Aug 2012, 19:37,
15 replies)

OK right
There was this time when I was about 16 and I was spending the summer at my Gran’s place in Norfolk like we always did. There was this girl who looked after the horses, must have been about 17 and she was FIT. I was a bit in love with her I suppose, and I used to sneak away and find places where I could watch her working. I loved watching her brushing the horses, it was a hot summer and the work was quite hard, so she’d sometimes do it in just a vest and jodpurs. The brushing movements would make her arse tense and her tits wobble, when she bent down to do their legs her tits would just about fall out of the vest and it was all I could do not to come on the spot, as I watched her through a gap in the floorboards of the hay loft, my raging cock rubbing against the straw.

And then one day, I couldn’t believe my luck. It had been really hot that day and when she led the big stallion into the stable, she was wearing vest and shorts. I moaned as quietly as I could and silently re-positioned myself to a position where I could get the best view, but things got even better. She tied the horse up near the hose-pipe and then peeled off the shorts and vest, putting them carefully to one side, leaving her wearing just a bikini and sandals. Then she turned on the hose and proceeded to give the horse a good soaping, before hosing him down.

She was totally preoccupied with the work and was getting herself pretty soapy too and I just HAD to get nearer to her. With the hose on and the horse making a bit of noise, stamping around and puffing, I found I could sneak down the stable stairs until I was just yards behind them with an amazing view of her sopping wet arse, foam dripping down her legs.

But then it stepped up a gear. The horse was getting aroused, his wang was starting to emerge pink and wet and HUGE, and the girl noticed this. She dipped her sponge in the bucket of suds and started ‘washing’ the horse’s massive wang gently, but as it got more and more aroused, she started properly wanking it, and with her left hand she was rubbing herself between the legs. By this time I was so close to cumming I couldn’t think straight and I must have made a noise because she suddenly spun round and saw me. Her face went from horror to surprise to relief to mischief in the blink of an eye and she spoke – hoarsely as it happens – ‘Come here Harry’.

I stumbled down the steps, holding onto my open trousers, my raging boner sticking out in front of me. All this time she hadn’t stopped wanking the horse. ‘Hurry up,’ she said and I walked up to her. She pulled her bikini top up and guided my hand to her breast, then reached down and began a double-wank, me and the stallion. Boy was she good.

The horse came like a fire extinguisher and I came too, spraying the girl’s midriff with cum. She slowed her manual manipulation and said, ‘OK, you’ve both had yours, now I want some.’ She led the horse back to his box then led me back up to the hayloft where she had me lick her on a clean blanket spread on the hay until she came like a train. She turned over onto all-fours and I didn't need to ask what she wanted; it was my first time and it's burned onto my memory - the smell of the hay and the horses, over-laid with the smell from her red, swollen snatch, the way the sunlight came through the windows...

But the memory I always return to is the sight of her wanking the horse and rubbing herself through her bikini pants.

Public Nudity
I'm wandering around in the arches under Kings Cross station, where various rooms are playing all flavours of banging dance music, while other caverns have chill out, film shows, circus skills and so on. A veritable underground Glastonbury.

I turn a corner, and I am presented with a sight that stays with me: a large hot-tub full of naked rave chicks. And probably some men, too, I don't remember them if there was.

Well, can't really stand there and spectate, so off comes the kit and in I go. Spent a very pleasant time chatting to gorgeous naked women, including one who arched her back out of the frothy water to ask me my opinion of a tattoo she'd had done just above her pubes.

All assisted by bucketloads of MAHOOSIVE DRUGS, naturally. A very happy memory, and one I conjour up frequently...
(moon monkeyis busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 23 Aug 2012, 17:09,
8 replies)

Fresh pea
When I was 10 or 11, my sister was 15/16 and discovering boys and having parties when "babysitting". My brothers and I would be banished to our bedrooms and strictly forbidden to go downstairs, despite the stomach-growlings of young boys urging us on to the kitchen. It wasn't that bad, because once drunk her friends would start investigating the house and find us, and start blathering drunken shite, making fun of my heavy metal posters (I was big on Skid Row, Poison and Motley Crue) and being entertaining - they would take the piss out of my sister and even bring up an illicit tin or two, and we'd play up to them saying what an evil witch our sister was.

Her boyfriend must have been a few years older as he had a car, and I remember one day going to (well, being brought to) the beach with them and a bunch of their friends. I can't remember the exact reason why, but at one point I was sitting in the car while everyone else was down the beach. (Maybe I was listening to "Shout At The Devil"). One of my sister's friends came in to dry off a bit, having gone in swimming. She evidenly hadn't expected to go swimming, as she was sitting there IN HER WET BRA AND PANTS in the passengers seat RIGHT NEXT TO ME with HER PUBIC HAIR CLEARLY VISIBLE THROUGH HER WHITE UNDIES.

I didn't know where to look, my hear was thundering in my chest and my Adam's Apple had never felt so engorged in my throat before. Here was a practically naked woman right next to me! With boobs! And hair - down there! Which I could see! Or, well, which I would able to see if I looked slightly to my left. I somehow found myself rigid with concentration looking stright ahead, while I awkwardly chatted with this vision of woman who had arisen from the ocean.

Dirty little minx
At 19 I spent nearly a year abroad working as a diving instructor. I was also swimming a couple of miles a day and doing other training, consequently I left the UK a skinny youth and came back a bronzed Adonis. On my return I visited an ex, Sarah, who was at universtity. To say she was pleased to see my new beautiful body was an understatement, and she literally dragged me into her bedroom to test it out.The next morning I met her housemates, Jen who was about 26 and Jen's younger sister who was about my age. while I was munching my corn flakes, Jen was looking me up and down and started making a purring noise. Sarah grinned and said "sounds like Jen's pussy likes you"....this surprised me to say the least. Then Jen said, "can I have a go on him, PLEASE". Sarah put on a faux petulant voice and said " OK if you must, but send him straight back to me when you're done. My head was spinning and I was having problems swallowing my cornflakes, what the fuck was going on. But before I had time to take it all in Jen's little sister chirps "what about me!". Once more Sarah gave her permission and the sisters jumped up from the table and scampered off to their respective rooms.I was struggleing to take it all in, but Sarah assured me it wasn't a practical joke, she really didn't mind and I better get myself to jen's room. So I did. When me and Jen were finished I went straight to her sisters room. She was waiting for me, half covered with a sheet. As I got onto the bed she asked "did you have a shower after shagging Jen?" "No" I replied, a little worried this might put her off, "good!" she exclaimed grabbing me and guiding my cock into her mouth, sucking hard. The glorious filthiness of the moment meant I lasted about five seconds, but I'll take those seconds to my grave.
(Ring Of FireA petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Mon 27 Aug 2012, 16:38,
8 replies)

easy!
watching david bowie's trouser stuffing waggle as he shook a muppet off his leg on labyrinth*drools*
(Smash Monkeyis going off the rails on a crazy train, Sat 25 Aug 2012, 20:49,
7 replies)

I had sex with my mum once
even better, when I woke up she'd made me a nice cup of tea and left it by the bed
(Mr Internet, Fri 24 Aug 2012, 13:24,
3 replies)

Same company, Different receptionist.
A rather uninhibited 19 year old lass, part time Ann-summers rep to boot, I'll call her Liz for that was her name.

One day I heard some raucous laughter coming from the reception next door so had to go and have a nosy. Val our matronly company secretary (think Hattie Jacques) was cackling away at the holiday photo's that Liz had just gotten developed.

"Look at his hairy arse! Is that the bloke you brought back to your room?" *cackle*"Oooh, you've got nothing on in this one!" *cackle*"Who's that? She's naked?" *cackle*

Cheekily asking whether I could have a look I was politely told,"Not bloodly likely." and was sent away.

About 1/2 an hour later Liz's printer mysteriously *cough* stopped working so I had to go and sort it out.

Sitting there on her desk was the envelope with the photo's in it. Did my horny 19-year-old self show respect and restraint? Did it hell.

I was flicking through those photos like a bank robber counting his cash, looking for the golden photo.

Bingo! There was Liz in her apartment bollock naked, hairy snatch and poached egg tits on show. Followed by one of her mate equally bollock naked. The only downer was the hairy arse shot of some bloke she met (and later married - who says holiday romances never work?)

I felt quite bad about the invasion of privacy, but only after stripping several layers of skin from my wee-man in the gents toilet.
(Airman GabberLiving life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 24 Aug 2012, 9:08,
1 reply)